


Eleven Months

by Abyssinia



Category: Band of Brothers
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-05-08
Updated: 2005-05-08
Packaged: 2017-10-02 22:03:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Abyssinia/pseuds/Abyssinia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>He's done this before - forever ago on D-Day with mud squelching beneath his jumpboots. The sense of déjà vu is so strong he finds the same words emerge from his mouth, "Hey Muh-lark! We're waitin' on ya."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Eleven Months

He's done this before - forever ago on D-Day with mud squelching beneath his jumpboots. The sense of déjà vu is so strong he finds the same words emerge from his mouth, "Hey Muh-lark! We're waitin' on ya."

Only this time Malarkey isn't sitting with German POWs on a rainy morning in France. And there aren't a measly 12 guys waiting to go take some German guns in an operation that will net the lot of them medals, and Popeye months in the hospital.

Eleven months later and two thousand years older this Malarkey is standing alone on a warm, clear German night just staring at the stars. And a company of half-drunk paratroopers is forgetting to not carry on a party without him.

And this time Popeye isn't going to leave him to follow behind. To reach the others and collapse, pale and green around the edges, and gulp water like it's all that will hold him together.

He waits until Malarkey turns from the heavens and looks him full in the eyes.

"You okay, Malark?"

Malarkey starts to nod. Stops. Looks up again. "I guess I always thought it would feel like something. The end of the war. But I don't feel any different than I did yesterday. Or the day before."

Popeye can only nod and reach an arm around Malarkey's shoulder as he leads him back to the barracks where shouts and drunken laughter emanate from the windows. "I know. Bin feelin' the same way myself."

"Skip…Skip used to talk about the wild party we'd have when the war was over. Booze and broads all night long." He shakes his head, laughing a bit at himself. "Part of me expects to find him waiting in there."

"Well, I dunno 'bout girls, but we got plenty o' booze. How 'bout we go in there and drink enough for Skip too?"

He opens the door and pushes Malarkey in ahead of him, both taking bottles O'Keefe hands them from the crate he proudly brought back earlier.

When he sees them, Luz climbs onto a table, frantically waving his hands to try to quiet everyone down. From the mob Perconte shouts out at him, "C'mon, Luz, stop flapping your arms like a chicken and get on with it!"

Luz begins in his well-practiced Sink imitation, "Now boys. I'm proud of what you've done but I've just got one more…" He grins at the chorus of boos, ducking a thrown hat and continues in his normal voice. "Seriously. To all of the fellas who aren't here to celebrate with us tonight. This is for you." He holds up his champagne bottle to a chorus of "amens."

Popeye catches the look that passes between Malarkey and Babe before they drink. Malarkey takes a healthy swallow from the wine bottle, but it isn't the frantic gulping Popeye saw on D-Day .

Luz isn't finished. He flashes a grin and shouts out, "Now lets give them a party so wild they can hear it no matter how far away they are." His shout of "Currahee!" as he jumps back down is lost in a chorus of shouts and popping champagne corks.


End file.
